The Unexpected Mrs. Pollifax Read online

  "Journey's end," commented Farrell dryly, with a nod at the smaller building toward which they were heading.

  She said crossly, "I really don't think you need put it in just that manner." But as they approached the second of the two buildings she realized that unconsciously she had begun bracing herself for the worst. She drew herself up to her full height—it was a little difficult on a donkey—and said primly, "I have always found that in painful situations it is a sensible idea to take each hour as it comes and not to anticipate beyond. But oh how I wish I could have a bath!"

  Someone must have noted their approach through the slits in the wall because the iron door of the building opened as they drew near. A man stepped out into the blazing sun with a rifle under his arm but Mrs. Pollifax was too busy to pay him any attention; she was involved in separating herself from the animal to which she had become welded during the past hour. No sooner did she stand upright, all her bones protesting, when the guard grasped her arm and led her into the building.

  "Journey's end," she thought bleakly, looking around her at more stone—really she was growing very tired of stones. In shape the building was a rectangle about thirty feet long. The door through which they entered was set at one end of the long rectangle, and as they entered they faced a room that occupied the precipice end of the structure. On their left was a dark hall that ran across the front, and looking down it Mrs. Pollifax saw two iron cell doors opening from it. She quickly turned her gaze back to the room, which contained a desk, a chair, a water cooler, a well-stocked gun rack, a small switchboard and a gray-haired man dressed in a uniform. He greeted them curtly in English.

  "I am Major Vassovic." With this announcement he took a huge iron key from the wall and led them down the hall to the first door and opened it. "In, please," he said.

  "I don't suppose you have an aspirin," Mrs. Pollifax told him hopefully. "I've had the most ridiculous headache for hours. I don't often get them, you know, and I don't mean to complain, but I've been doped twice and apparently fed intravenously, and it's been a rather exhausting plane ride—"

  The major looked at her in astonishment, and then carefully wiped all expression from his face. "I have no orders to give you anything," he told her stiffly.

  Farrell gently pulled her into the room, the door clanged shut behind them and Mrs. Pollifax said, "I don't see how one aspirin could ..." Her voice died away at sight of their prison. It was quite decent in size, but so dark—lighted only by the two slits in the wall—that it was twilight inside. There was to be no privacy for her or Farrell, she noted; none at all except for the dimness. There was an iron cot at each end of the room, with a night chamber under each; there were two small tables and that was all. No chairs, no screens, no lavatory, no clothespegs, nothing else except the oppressive stone walls and floor.

  "Well," said Farrell, and sat down on a cot.

  "Well," said Mrs. Pollifax, and sat down on the other cot. They stared at each other through the gloom, a distance of perhaps twelve feet, and Mrs. Pollifax realized that the silence was becoming long and much too dismal. "Well," she said again, briskly, and getting up she carried one of the tables to the cot, reached into her purse and began spreading out her deck of playing cards.

  "Not again," groaned Farrell. "Not here."

  "Whyever not?" said Mrs. Pollifax and was glad to see him diverted.

  She had played three games when the door was unlocked and opened and a guard gestured that she come with him. Farrell also stood up but the guard shook his head. Farrell said lightly, "Well—I do feel snubbed. Good luck, Duchess."

  Mrs. Pollifax did not look back. Her knees were trembling, and this unexpected separation from Farrell—on whom she had once looked askance—left her feeling very lonely. She was led out into the blazing sun to stumble over the stones to the other, larger building. The door was opened from inside and Mrs. Pollifax was led into a large cool room of whitewashed stone. The room was furnished like Major Vassovic's office except that everything was larger. There were two men in the room, both in uniform, but Mrs. Pollifax's glance flew to the man seated at the desk.

  "Why, Senor DeGamez," she gasped. "How did you get here?"

  His gold tooth flashed in a brief smile. "In the same manner that you did, Mrs. Pollifax. Allow me to present General Hoong, who is in charge of the—uh—buildings here."

  "How do you do," Mrs. Pollifax said politely to the Chinese. He bowed, his expression remote, and Mrs. Pollifax immediately forgot him. "Except that of course you're not the real Senor DeGamez, I know that now," she went on. "I realized it as soon as I saw the empty parrot cage. It had one feather in it."

  "Actually I am General Raoul Perdido," he said, motioning her to take the chair beside his desk. "Do sit down, Mrs. Pollifax, we have a few things to discuss. Pleasantly or unpleasantly, depending upon your attitude."

  Brainwashing, thought Mrs. Pollifax contemptuously, and suddenly realized that she was not afraid. She had endured other crises without losing her dignity—births, widowhood, illnesses—and she was experienced enough to know now that everything worthwhile took time and loneliness, perhaps even one's death as well. "I don't mean to be morbid," she told herself. "It's just that I refuse to be frightened by a man whose only weapon over me is the cessation of life. After all, I have nothing to hide. I only wish I did. I'm not even a spy. I almost was, but then this horrid man rushed in to spoil everything." She sat down and faced him with growing indignation. Aloud she said, "May I ask, General Perdido, just why you had to abduct me like this?"

  He leaned back in his chair, lit a cigar and suddenly impaled her with a sharp glance. "I had hoped for a more intelligent question from you than this, Mrs. Pollifax. I abhor pretended innocence."

  "And I have a great deal to complain about," she retorted, "and no consul to whom I can complain. I was having a very pleasant vacation in Mexico, and now I am informed that I am in Albania. Is this true?"

  "I am in charge of the questioning," said General Perdido.

  "Then you have been very extravagant," she told him coldly. "You have flown me thousands of miles across the world to ask questions that could have been very easily asked in Mexico. I don't know what country you work for, General Perdido, but your taxpayers would certainly have every right to be furious if they knew."

  The general's face darkened. "I see that you are going to deny you are an American spy."

  Spy?" said Mrs. Pollifax scornfully. "Is that what you take me for? This is one more grievance I must hold against you, General."

  "Fool," spat the general. "You are not in the United States now, and you are not in Mexico, Mrs. Pollifax, and—"

  "Then I wish that you would tell me where I am," she reminded him.

  "Never mind," he shouted. "Wherever it is, you are far from home and no one knows where you are. No one, do you understand? You are removed from all influence and all hope of rescue. I have methods for extracting the truth—very refined or very brutal but all of them painful. I am extremely accomplished in all of them."

  "I'm sure you are at the very top of your profession," she said tartly, "but I do not find it a very admirable profession."

  General Hoong turned from the window and spoke rapidly to General Perdido. There was silence and then General Per-dido said reluctantly, "Let us try to be reasonable, Mrs. Pollifax."

  "Yes, let's," she agreed.

  "You visited the Parrot Bookstore a few days ago, did you not?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "For what purpose?"

  'To buy a book. Naturally."

  "At this time you confided in me that you had visited the Parrot Bookstore on a previous day, is this not correct?"

  Mrs. Pollifax nodded.

  "Also at this time you inquired of me where the other Senor DeGamez was. You told me you had talked with him at some length, is this not so, Mrs. Pollifax?"

  "But of course," said Mrs. Pollifax warmly. "He was most enjoyable, a thoroughly charming man."

  The ge
neral said patiently, "You said he made you the gift of a book?"

  "Yes, he did, it was very kind of him." In this matter Mrs. Pollifax could be completely frank. "We began talking, you see—about his parrot, and then about grandchildren and traveling alone. That's when he gave me the book. He told me that solitaire was something I would enjoy very much. Have you tried it, General? He was quite right, I have found it enormously stimulating."

  The general opened a desk drawer and brought out two books. "Then it is the book on solitaire that he gave you," he said triumphantly.

  He held up the books and Mrs. Pollifax gasped. "Why— you have both of them! You stole them from my hotel room."

  "But of course," replied the general with a flash of gold tooth. "We are very thorough."

  Mrs. Pollifax said indignantly, "Of course it's your conscience and you'll have to live with it, but I would like to point out that those are my books."

  He nodded. "Yes, but one of them was presented to you by an extremely dangerous man."

  "Was he really?" said Mrs. Pollifax.

  The general leaned back in his chair and studied her. "I think you are being a little ingenuous Mrs. Pollifax, I do not know. We have gone through these books with what you Americans call a fine-toothed comb and we have not found anything. For the moment it is sufficiently rewarding to learn that it is this particular book that he gave you. 77 Ways to Play Solitaire," he read with distaste, and pushed it away from him. "We shall examine it many more times."

  Mrs. Pollifax said stiffly, "Really, General, don't you think you can become too devious, too suspicious? That book was given to me out of kindness, I can assure you of that. If you insist that it is full of secret messages written in invisible ink—"

  "Please," said the general, looking pained.

  "Well, whatever you people use these days," she pointed out. "At any rate, his gift of a book to me a few weeks ago seems a very feeble reason for my abduction."

  The general stared at her with dislike. "If you are innocent you chose a most inauspicious morning to visit the Parrot Bookstore, Mrs. Pollifax."

  "On the contrary, I chose a most auspicious morning," she said coldly. "The sun was shining and I wanted a book to read."

  "What is more you behaved very suspiciously when the book was not in the window."

  "I did not behave suspiciously at all," replied Mrs. Pollifax. "I was in hopes that you might prove just as charming as the earlier Senor DeGamez. You didn't," she reminded him sternly.

  "You did not so much as demur when I suggested I had something to give you."

  "I was allowing you every opportunity to be as hospitable as the first Senor DeGamez," she snapped. "After all, he gave me a book."

  "Why did you accept tea from me?" he demanded. "Just what were you expecting?"

  "A chat," said Mrs. Pollifax firmly.

  "A what?"

  "A little chat," she said. "Is that so difficult for you to believe? My government expects each and every one of us to be traveling ambassadors when we go abroad. I was trying," she added piously, "to know you better."

  General Perdido exploded in what sounded like an oath. He and General Hoong exchanged glances and General Perdido said bitterly, "You may go back to your cell."

  Mrs. Pollifax nodded and arose. "There is one other matter," she said. "Please could I be given one aspirin?"

  Nine

  The guard inserted the huge, comic-opera key in the lock and opened the door for Mrs. Pollifax, slamming it shut behind her. At once Farrell sprang to his feet. "Are you all right?"

  Mrs. Pollifax was deeply touched by his concern. "Yes, I really am," she told him. "I was asked questions by that man I met in a bookstore in Mexico City, except now he's here in Albania. Imagine." She sat down on her cot and picked up her playing cards and shuffled them. In a low voice she said, "Farrell, I must apologize to you for something quite dreadful."

  "Good heaven*, what can that be?"

  Mrs. Pollifax tried to think of the word the professionals used. "Are we being bugged?" she asked.

  Farrell walked over and sat down beside her on the cot "If you mean are there microphone' Hidden in here I don't know, but there must be some kind of listening device. I'm sure it's why they put us together—but where on earth did you pick up that word bugging, Duchess?"

  "At the hairdresser's. One learns a great deal there about life."

  "And the apology?" Farrell whispered the question.

  She turned and faced him. "It's really quite terrible," she whispered back. "It seems the reason they brought us here is that they believe I'm a dangerous American spy."

  "You?" The corners of his mouth twitched a little at this revelation. "You're not, are you?"

  Mrs. Pollifax hesitated. "In one sense, no," she admitted. "In another, yes. But certainly not dangerous."

  Farrell said flatly, "I don't like the way you say that, Duchess, you'd better be much more specific. Do you trust me?"

  Mrs. Pollifax nodded.

  "Good. Then for heaven's sake, are you or aren’t you?"

  Still whispering, Mrs. Pollifax plunged into her confession, beginning with her visit to CIA headquarters, describing the simple courier work that she was to do and how this man with the gold tooth had totally ruined her assignment. "And he's the same man who questioned me here, but now he calls himself General Raoul Perdido."

  "Oh God," said Farrell.

  "You mentioned his name once—quite lightly—on the plane. Do you know him too?"

  He said grimly, "Nobody mentions Perdido lightly, and if I did I ought to have my head examined. Yes, I've heard of him, and he's a cruel, vicious bas—sorry," he added, and glancing at her face a smile lit up his eyes, "You of all people, Duchess!" The smile abruptly left his eyes and he became thoughtful. "You've certainly outflanked the general for the moment at least." He frowned. "You've bought yourself more time, which is the most important concession, but I only wish —I'm very much afraid—"

  "It's all right," she told him gently. "I know what you're thinking. Even if they believe everything I've told them they can't afford to let me go home again."

  He smiled wryly. "You continue to surprise me, Duchess, but let's not be gloomy, they may save you for an international incident and trade you for one of their own." Glancing up he said, "Oh-oh, we have company again."

  The door swung wide and a man walked in carrying a tray of food, followed by a guard who insisted upon dramatically covering them with his rifle. Mrs. Pollifax thought it extremely ill-bred of him and turned her back on him, ignoring him just as she would have ignored a rude waiter. "Can you explain this odd-looking food?" she asked Farrell conversationally, hoping he knew what lay on her dish like a piece of melted rubber. "And is it drugged, do you think?"

  Farrell said evenly, "Not likely. They'll be questioning me soon and I'd be no good to them drugged. It's some sort of cheese dish," he added, pushing a spoon into it. "Go ahead and try it. Not bad."

  "It just looks such a mess," said Mrs. Pollifax with a sigh.

  "Rather like Welsh rarebit," he told her, nodding approvingly. "Cheese and milk cooked together."

  They ate quietly. There was coffee, very strong, and cakes drenched in honey. When they had finished Farrell brought out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, extracted one and lighted it, saying dryly, "The condemned man ate a hearty meal. And now, Duchess, there is something I believe I should tell you."

  Mrs. Pollifax was feeling much more cheerful now, and her headache was virtually gone. "Fire ahead," she said gaily.

  "You've been frank with me. I think it only politic to tell you what General Perdido already knows about me—namely that I, too, work for Carstairs."

  Mrs. Pollifax drew in her breath sharply.

  "I've been an agent since '47 when the CIA was formed," he went on. "You might say that I'm their man in Mexico City. Or one of them," he added absently. "A long time ago I did a job with DeGamez, so I knew what his real work was, and therein lies the rub, as old Billy Sha
kespeare would say. I hadn't seen DeGamez for years, not that we had to avoid each other, we just didn't move in the same circles. But on the nineteenth, just after I'd finished lunch, I received a crazy, garbled message from him and I went off at once to his bookstore. You see, the message had a code word inserted into it, a word meaning SOS. All the words in the message should have been in code—I knew that when I set out—but when a friend sounds in trouble how can a guy hang back? I should have been more cautious; I was impulsive instead. I went to see what the hell DeGamez meant and walked right into their trap. I realize now that Perdido must have pried just that one word out of DeGamez or some poor soul who knew it, but there's no use crying over spilt milk.. By going to the bookstore—by reacting to that code word—I proved I was just who they thought I was, an agent they'd been looking for since '47." He was silent, smiling a twisted smile as he looked into his thoughts. "It takes only one goof and the others follow like one-two-three. The first thing they took from me was the cyanide pill I'm never without. The second thing they took from me was my identity, and then my freedom. So here I am, as full of information for them as Santa's knapsack. A real Christmas present in August for General Perdido."

  Mrs. Pollifax stared at him in astonishment, understanding for the first time the hardness in him. "I thought him a reckless adventurer," she remembered. "I thought him a philanderer and a professional charmer and a man of no scruples,